What the City of LA has Joined, Let No Man Put Asunder
by Juliann7
Summary: McCall searches for answers to Hunter's death while trying (unsuccessfully) to move on with her life.
1. Chapter 1

After six years of partnership, it seemed to Sgt. Dee Dee McCall that the city of Los Angeles was more interested in trimming its crime-fighting budget than it was trimming the amount of criminals off the streets. Partnered police officers seemed to be partners in name only anymore. She and Hunter had become like almost every other partnered police officers – working cases alone most of the time.

Sure, they would try to discuss their cases and bounce ideas off of each other. But it was futile. And the last two months especially were wearing on her nerves. Hunter had been working on a single case for far too long, and his tight-lipped information that at first had become annoying to her was now a cause for worry. The tall sergeant seemed preoccupied and on edge. This sent McCall's sixth sense on high alert.

"I don't know what you're talking about, McCall," said Capt. Charles Devane when she brought her concerns to him. Devane, too, looked frazzled. "Hunter is working on a high-profile case with specific instructions from people higher up on the food chain than me. I know you'd like to work on it with him, and frankly, it would please me to no end. But he started on this before you came back from London, and it was too late for me to add you as a detective on that case. I'm sorry."

McCall blanched at the memory of that conversation. Returning from London only two months after her marriage to Alex Turnan had seemed like such a good idea at the time. She lost her loving feeling of the United Kingdom and her ex-husband at the same time.

She heaved a heavy sigh as she recalled the afternoon that changed it all. She was intent on surprising Alex with a picnic lunch at his lab, but she was the one who turned out to be shell-shocked when she found him sitting in his office chair, groaning with pleasure and winding his fingers through the long blonde hair belonging to his lab assistant, on her knees in front of him, giving him head.

She had her bags packed and her one-way airline ticket purchased before Alex had arrived home. She came home to her old job and her old partner. The city of L.A. had welcomed her with open arms, hired her back onto the force and partnered her with a very welcoming and jubilant Hunter. But like all other partnered officers, she and Hunter found themselves often working cases alone. The professional distance between herself and Hunter was growing to be too much to bear.

And it was starting to affect their personal relationship, too. It had been four months since she returned from London, and their conversation one night shortly after she got back was one that changed her forever.

_"So, tomorrow you're back to being my partner," Hunter said triumphantly, his feet slowly moving the porch swing at her mother's house back and forth._

_"Just like old times, right?" she asked. Her need for normalcy was great. Although she looked at tomorrow with trepidation. Not one cell in her body thought tomorrow would the same as it had been the previous six years together. The work would be the same: trying to rid the streets of L.A. of the most dangerous criminals under a tight budget. But to return only a little more than two months after her wedding, which many of her coworkers attended, was not something she looked forward to. At the age of 33, she was ashamed for making such a rash decision to marry Alex._

_She felt Hunter's hand gently squeeze her shoulder, and she smiled at his instinctive ability to read her thoughts. This had not changed. "Don't worry about coming back to work. They are your friends. They understand."_

_She leaned her head into his shoulder. "I feel so stupid," she said softly. "I should have known better."_

_"Hey, it's not your fault." And then he was silent for a while. "I blame myself, actually."_

_She straightened up and looked at him with surprise. "Why on earth would you be to blame?"_

_He looked down, not meeting her gaze, and concentrated instead on squishing an ant with the toe of his flip flop. "I uh, I should have told you how I really felt about you. Maybe you would have stayed."_

_McCall's jaw dropped. Hunter looked at her for a second, gave her a shy grin and then looked away._

_"Don't look at me like that," he said. "I can't think when you look at me like that."_

_"What are you telling me?" she asked._

_Hunter's gaze shifted to the floor again, looking for another ant to kill._

_"Did Alex ever tell you about my visit to him at his hotel before you got married?"_

_"No – but you told me you had words with him. I believe you said you were out of line."_

_Hunter heaved a sigh. "I told him he was messing you up, and he needed to back off. He told me I was out of line, and that he loved you."_

_She could tell there was more. "And?" she prodded._

_"I told him I loved you, too."_

_Her swift intake of breath told him that he had surprised her with this admission._

_"I should have told you," he said. "But I thought you knew. And he was offering way more than I was. He was willing to give you 'Leave it to Beaver.' The house, the white picket fence, a station wagon full of kids."_

_"Oh God, Rick," she whispered. Her eyes filled with tears. "It's so much more than all of that. I just want to be with someone who loves me, and who wants to share their life with me forever. The rest of it is just a bonus."_

_He looked at her and wiped an errant tear off of her cheek with his thumb. He breathed deep for courage. "Then I hope I'm you're guy, then. Because I love you. Nothing will ever change that." And before she could even think, his lips were on hers. And then their hands were all over each other. And then they got into his car and drove to his beach house, where they made love with the windows open amidst crashing waves and a warm sea breeze._

McCall's eyes misted over. Their personal relationship was suffering thanks to this case.

"Penny for your thoughts," said Hunter's familiar voice behind her. She almost melted into her chair when his hands gently grasped her shoulders and began to massage them, working out the knots between her shoulders and spine.

"I was just thinking that I don't get to see you nearly enough," she said softly.

"You just miss my massages," he said with a laugh.

If he only knew the truth, McCall thought silently. She sighed again and leaned her head back to look up at him. "I miss you, all of you," she said thickly. He quickly removed his hands and sat down across from her, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers. He looked worn out.

Hunter finally looked at her with his shoulders slumped. "Let's get dinner tonight," he said, not asking, but telling.

"Really?" she asked, suddenly interested in breaking the monotony of the days and weeks past.

"Thai?" he asked hopefully.

She wrinkled her nose – it was much too spicy for her taste. "Italian?" she countered.

"That's all I've been eating lately – leftovers from my mother."

And then she grinned, suddenly remembering. "Well, tonight IS Thursday . . . ." she began, drumming her fingertips against the desk. Her smile grew wider when he recognized the significance.

"Chowder Night," he responded, his own face smiling back at her. "Let's get outta here."

And so they sat, heads bowed over their bowls of take-out chowder on the couch of McCall's living room. McCall grew increasingly disturbed. Hunter seemed preoccupied and pensive. Finally, after they finished their chowder, McCall curled up into his side and closed her eyes as he put his arm around her. She turned her head into his shirt, inhaling his scent of cologne and everything that was Hunter. She felt him place a kiss on the top of her head and pull her closer.

"What's wrong?" she asked softly.

"Just a lot on my mind," he replied. "This case is making me nuts."

"Can I help?" she asked. She felt him take a deep breath and sigh.

"As much as I would love to have your help, no, there's nothing you can do."

"This whole budget crisis stinks," McCall whispered. "I miss you so much."

"I miss you, too," he replied, and then he yawned. "Goddamn, I'm tired."

"Well, I bought an extra-long couch just for these occasions," McCall answered. "Why don't you stretch out a while?"

He responded with action and made quick work of stretching out on her couch, but keeping McCall in his arms as she reclined with him. They found themselves chest to chest, their hearts hammering in unison. Her eyes closed as he gave her a light kiss on her forehead. She opened her eyes and smiled at him, and lightly tried to use her thumb to press the wrinkles of worry from his forehead.

"You can do better than that," she said softly, and smiled at his tired chuckle. Suddenly, his lips were on hers, slow and drugging, and oh-so-powerful. Their tongues mated as they fondled each other. She caressed the hard muscles of his torso and back while he made quick work of unbuttoning her blouse and unfastening her bra. His hot mouth traveled downward and teased her nipples, gradually increasing the pressure as he teased them into hard buds. McCall gasped as she felt a tugging sensation in her lower belly, and the feeling grew stronger as Hunter pleasured her, causing a warm feeling spread from her belly to the rest of her body.

Before she knew it, their lovemaking grew desperate. There was no time to remove clothing. She deftly unbuckled his trousers and reached down to free his eager cock, hot and heavy in her hand. He grunted when she began to stroke him. "Gah . . . ." he growled into her ear, his body shaking with need. "I can't wait," he finally said, moving between her legs after he raised her skirt and pulled down her underwear. And then he went still, cursing as he began to go through his pockets looking for a condom.

"It's okay, we don't need it," she told him, raising her pelvis toward him, searching for her prize. He looked down at her and smiled.

"Thank God," he replied, and then met her for a searing kiss as he thrust into her. She gasped at the sudden onslaught, and secretly screamed with delight at his wanton need to be with her in every sense of the word. The pleasure crashed down over her in waves, and after she hitched her ankles around his waist, she felt him slide even deeper. She would have climbed him like a giant oak if she could. He groaned into the curve of her neck. "You feel so good," he whispered into her ear, and then she hissed as she felt his fingers reach between them to stroke her. Her body tightened like a bow string, and a small squeal of distress erupted from her mouth. "Come for me," he ordered, and like magic, she cried out as her body did his bidding, her orgasm washing over her in waves as she shuddered beneath him.

And then she felt him stiffen and groan as he pushed even deeper, erupting inside her, the hot and sticky wetness of him filling her. He collapsed on top of her, suddenly kissing her tenderly as they came down from their sexual high together. He looked down at her, pushing her stray curls away from her flushed face.

"It has been way too long," he murmured into her hair as he shifted his weight off of her.

"Yeah, I know," she responded, meeting him for another light kiss. "We never see each other."

"Hopefully, this will wrap up soon," he said, his face now drawn and pensive. She tried to smooth the worry lines from his forehead with the tips of her fingers.

"This case really has you bugged, doesn't it?" she whispered. "I've never seen you so concerned."

"It's just some really bad people who are very smart," he said quietly. He turned to face her. "I'm going undercover in the morning. I can't tell you where I'll be, or what I'll be doing. It's too dangerous. It may be a while before I can contact you. So please, promise me you won't ask questions?"

Her heart hammered in her chest. This was very serious, and now she was scared. That was a bad sign all around. She swallowed hard. "I promise."

Hunter smiled at her again and then drew her close as he kissed her. He stirred against the softness of her stomach, and she sighed as his hand followed the curve of her spine to cup her naked backside. He pulled her closer and soon he was on top of her again. But this second time, he took his time and teased her mercilessly until she begged. It was slow, sweet and ultimately mind-blowing. And when they were finished, he held his forehead against hers as his breathing slowed. "I love you," he whispered to her, his voice desperate.

"I love you too," she whispered to him in the dark. "Always."

###

It had been a week. She hadn't seen or heard from Hunter at all. Devane was tight-lipped, but also worried. He barked at everyone from being on edge himself. And after 9 days had passed, McCall answered a knock at her door at 2 a.m.

Devane was standing there, with an ashen-faced Kitty O'Hearn and Brad Navarro. They didn't need to tell her, because the look on their faces said it all. It was the same look that Hunter had when he came to her door and told her Steve had died.

McCall swallowed hard, looking at the tears in everyone's eyes. "What's wrong?" she whispered, her voice eluding her. She felt her body begin to shake uncontrollably, and her heart thudded in her ears. "It's Rick, isn't it?"

"I'm sorry," Devane said, his voice choking. "There was a shootout two days ago, and we hadn't heard from him. We had the entire team looking everywhere. Sources came up empty. He was found under the pier this morning by a couple of fishermen," Devane said. "He was shot. Looks like he was dumped there." The last few words he said went unheard by McCall. "Found under the pier . . ." were the last words she heard before she bent over, screaming. "Nooooooooo!" over and over again.


	2. Chapter 2

The remaining hours dragged on like a living nightmare. Profound grief found McCall and stabbed her through the back and into her heart, unsuspecting and unaware. She sobbed until she threw up, and she cried until she could cry no more. There was no consoling her. Finally, Kitty talked her into going upstairs to her bedroom, where she crawled into her bed, hugging Hunter's pillow to her body. She accepted a pill and glass of water from Kitty, not even caring what it was that Kitty gave her. But it didn't make her sleep – it was as if her body had become relaxed like that of a newborn baby, but she could still hear bits and pieces of conversations, and she couldn't participate in them.

_"Just a fucking shame," Navarro said. "What the fuck happened? Where the fuck was backup?"_

_"She's heartbroken," Kitty said. "First Steve, and now Hunter. I don't know how she'll survive this."_

_She heard the tinkling of ice in glasses and knew that Devane was hitting and sharing the Irish whiskey that he likely brought with him in the flask that he thought no one knew he had. "I just can't fucking believe this is happening," Devane muttered, and then she heard the ice again. "Not Hunter. No fucking way."_

_"And she just came back from London. Hunter was a goddamn mess without her. They never showed it, but you knew there was something more there," Bill murmured, his partner Bob silently nodding his head in agreement. "We all teased them about it, but I guess we were all jealous of what they had. At least I know I was."_

_"Just a fucking shame," Navarro said again. "Hunter was . . . indestructible. He was Hunter."_

McCall opened her eyes to darkness, realizing she had slept until after dinner. Her house was quiet. She sat up and the grief came roaring back into her reality. Her face was hot, her eyes were swollen, and her head hurt.

"Hey, sweetie, you're awake," Kitty said quietly from across the room where she had taken watch over McCall. She quickly came over and sat on the bed next to her. "Is there something I can get for you? Are you hungry?"

McCall's eyes were a blank page. She looked at Kitty and shook her head slowly. And then it hit her. There was only one thing that she wanted. She wanted to see him. She had to see with her own eyes that he was gone. Kitty waited for her to change her clothes and she drove McCall to Metro, where she was greeted with sad eyes and nodding heads. Some came forward to hug her and offer condolences. She was numb, and could barely react. No one could speak. It was if Parker Center was shrouded in black.

Devane, who remained in the same clothes he wore at her house, looked at her with sympathy when she walked into his office, standing up from behind his desk and taking her into his arms as she wept again.

"Where did they take Hunter?" she asked him. "I need . . . I need to see him."

Devane sighed. "You can't see him," Devane told her slowly, trying to reach her through her haze of sorrow and grief. "His mother had power-of-attorney and she had him cremated this afternoon after the autopsy." Devane held her hand and tried to console her.

"But, I was his power of attorney," McCall said, disbelieving this latest turn of events.

The Captain heaved a sigh of regret. Damn Hunter for not telling her. "He changed it when you got married," Devane said, apologetically. "He probably hadn't had a chance to change it back."

McCall buried her face in her hands. "Oh my God, this can't be happening." And then she sat up and looked at Devane through her tears. "His mother. I need to be with her."

"I think that's a great idea, because she's been asking for you," Devane said quietly. "She is devastated, as you can imagine."

Kitty drove her to Santa Monica to Hunter's mother Sophie's house, where a wreath draped in black hung on the front door. The Italian tradition of mourning. When she walked in, she was greeted by several family members who had gathered there to mourn. They all knew McCall, and she was embraced by every single one. She finally found her way to Sophie, who was seated on a couch. The older woman held out her arms, and McCall sat beside her and hugged her.

"I wish I had been there for him," McCall sobbed. "He wouldn't let me. I would have been there, I would have backed him up."

"Sssssshhhhhhhhhhhh, child," Sophie murmured. "I can't believe my son is gone. But know this – he loved you more than any other, and he placed you first above all else. "

McCall smiled at Sophie through her tears. "I loved him."

"I know you did. And he felt the same way about you." Sophie smiled again and looked upward. "He is with his father now, watching over us. May they rest in peace."

McCall took Sophie's hand in hers. "Did you get to see him?"

Sophie's eyes darkened, and she bowed her head, not able to look at McCall. "No. The medical examiner's office called to say that his body was released to the funeral home, and they had taken him to the crematory before I could see him." She hung her head. "They said he was not in a good condition to be viewed." She heaved a heavy sigh. "I didn't want to remember my boy like that."

And then Sophie turned and took a black velvet bag and handed it to McCall. "His personal items are in there. I thought you may want them."

McCall opened the bag and took out Hunter' shield, a soggy wallet, his wristwatch, his police ID badge that was still hanging on a lanyard, and Hunter's key chain.

"I can't believe this is real," McCall whispered, fondling Hunter's items in her hands. "I keep telling myself it's just a bad dream, and I'm going to wake up, and he's gonna be there."

"He is with the Lord," Sophie told her gently. "We will mourn him, and we will miss him. But we must move on. Ricky wouldn't want us crying for him. He is at peace."

###

McCall sat in the front pew of the church, holding Sophie's hand. A vase with Hunter's remains sat on a dais on the altar, with a large, framed photo of him smiling in his dress blues perched on an easel next to it. McCall remained in shock, unable to accept the loss. It was all happening so fast. He had only been gone 48 hours, yet Sophie insisted on having his memorial service already.

She hadn't even been able to hold it together during the opening song, sung by a choir that sounded like Heaven's angels. Tears streamed down her face, and Sophie quietly patted her hand while Devane sat stoically on her other side.

Hunter's funeral was well-attended, with a line of law enforcement both current and retired lining the street from the church to the cemetery in a show of respect. Sophie accepted the U.S. Flag, and then sat with McCall under the tent where his ashes were going to be buried.

The shots from the United States Marine Corps Honor Guard echoed in the stillness, where sobs of loss and grief were heard among the chirping birds. A slight rain began to mist, but it wasn't enough to camouflage McCall's tears. Her heart had been ripped from her once again. The same heart that had taken years to heal after Steve died.

Once everyone had left, and after Sophie made her way to a waiting limousine, McCall sat under the canopy, all alone. She sat in the chair closest to the urn holding Hunter's remains. In her hand was a single white rose.

"How am I going to live without you?" she whispered to him, still believing he could hear her. "We had so many things to do, and to finish," she sobbed. "How could you leave me?" And then she bowed her head, letting the finality of it all drape her with sadness.


	3. Chapter 3

"I know it's been tough on you, McCall," Devane told her quietly. She was seated in front of him, looking like a worn out doll. She was thinner than he remembered. It had been two months since Hunter's death, and McCall used every last one of her vacation days, sick days, personal days and comp time hours. "But, I need you to come back to work."

She had so many unanswered questions. And her life had emptied into nothing. If it hadn't been for Kitty keeping tabs on her, McCall would have shriveled up and died with him. Losing Steve eight years earlier had almost killed her. Losing Hunter had taken up just about everything else.

McCall looked at Devane and sighed. "I know I need to come back," she said quietly, and then she stood to look out his window at the typical chaotic insanity among the detectives. The criminals obviously hadn't taken a break. Life was moving on without her.

"I am going to partner you with a guy named Gary Calhoun," Devane told her. "He used to be down in Vice. His partner was out on maternity leave and decided to call it quits. He's a good man."

A new partner. She didn't want a new partner. She wanted Hunter.

Devane buzzed his secretary. "Lisa, please tell Gary Calhoun to come in to my office, please."

McCall watched a man about her age move from a desk near Kitty & Brad and make his way to the door. She knew it had to be her new partner. He was about 6 feet tall and of average build. Athletic, but not a gym rat. His dark hair was a contrast to his blue eyes. And McCall noticed right away that he was wearing a wedding ring.

They exchanged handshakes, and McCall tried to be polite even though she was screaming on the inside.

"Sorry to hear about your partner," Gary said. "I didn't know him personally, but I hear he was a good man."

McCall fought the all-too-familiar tears at the mention of Hunter. "Yes, he was the best," she murmured.

"I'll try to live up to his standard."

"I'm sure you two will get along just fine," Devane interjected. He looked at McCall and squeezed her shoulder gently. "Take it easy this weekend. I'll see you bright and early on Monday, okay?"

She nodded her head. But before she left, she asked him a question.

"Has uh, anyone gone through Hunter's desk?"

Devane frowned. "No. Let's just say, no one volunteered. I was going to do it but . . . ."

"No, let me," McCall offered.

"You're sure?"

"Yes. He'd want me to. And uh, we need to find Gary a new home."

"Well, there's some empty boxes if you need them," Devane said. "You're welcome to them." He hesitated. "Do you want some help?"

She shook her head and smiled bravely. "Thank you, but no. I think Hunter would want me to do this."

McCall knew everyone was trying not to watch her. She could feel their eyes on her, feel their sympathy and pity. But it was not surprising to her that no one had cleaned out Hunter's desk. It was almost like a curse, or superstition among police officers, that it was bad luck to clean out a dead cop's belongings. Some cops' items stayed in their locker for years, almost like retiring a football jersey.

McCall at first found half of a pack of Hunter's favorite chewing gum. She popped a piece into mouth, and flashbacks of Hunter kissing her hit her like a ton of bricks. She could still taste him. Tears smarted in her eyes.

A box of toothpicks.

The sports section of the Los Angeles Times, dated the day before he went undercover.

A few books that only Hunter would read. The Law Officer's Pocket Manual; Way of the Warrior: The Philosophy of Law Enforcement; and Verbal Judo: The Gentle Art of Persuasion.

Files, files and more files.

And in the bottom drawer, a photo of the two of them. McCall brushed her fingers over the photo, and without knowing it, tears began to roll down her face. They were wearing jeans and navy blue windbreakers with the words "POLICE" on the back. Hunter's sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, and he was sitting in a chair in what she remembered was a warehouse where they had just taken down a drug kingpin and scores of heroin and cocaine that had been shipped in to the harbor. She was standing behind him, bent over with her arms wrapped around him, his hands on hers. Her head was bent down, as if she was whispering into his ear. It was a black and white photo, and she had never seen the photo until that day. It was police-issue – and was likely a photograph taken by one of the staff photographers taking pictures of the crime scene.

She carefully put all of his belongings into the boxes Charlie gave her, and carried them to her car. Where they remained another two months.

###

McCall sat at her desk and stared at the morning edition of the Los Angeles Times. Frank Caribardi had been arrested the night before and charged with international espionage – and he was going to the Grand Jury. The name glared at her, and she knew she had heard it before. She closed her eyes and tried to focus. Frank Caribardi. It was almost like a chant in the back of her brain. Frank Caribardi.

And then it hit her.

She excused herself to a wondering Gary and went to her car, unlocked the trunk, and opened one of the boxes labeled "files". When she knew she had the right box, she carried it back to her desk.

"Whatcha got there?" Gary asked.

"I'm not sure yet," she said, not even looking at him. She was focused now. Thirty minutes later, she stared at the black and white photo taken of her and Hunter at a drug bust that she had found in his desk when she cleaned it out two months after his death. She sat at her desk and looked closely. The center of the photo featured the two of them, with McCall leaned over him and whispering something into Hunter's ear. But to the rear, in the shadow, was a figure of a man who looked to be in his 50s. The man was staring at them, scowling, as if he was on his way out of the building in a hurry but provided one final look at the couple. And written in fading pencil on the photo itself in Hunter's handwriting with an arrow pointing to the shadowed figure in question: Frank Caribardi.

"Oh my God," McCall whispered.

"What?" Gary asked.

McCall grabbed the newspaper and the box of files and put the lid on it. "I'm not feeling well. I'm going to go home and take a sick day."

Gary's eyebrows furrowed. "What about this case we're working on?"

"The wife did it. I'll see you tomorrow."

###

McCall sat cross-legged on her sofa, buried in files. One in particular was marked F.C. but there was very little in it. Information that should have been in the file was missing. Also in her lap was the black velvet bag full of Hunter's personal items that Sophie had given to her. She picked up one item in particular – Hunter's wristwatch.

It was still ticking, the second hand moving along like the beat of her heart. Two days floating in the harbor – one would think that the watch would have died, too.

She added 2 + 2 and got 4. It was brilliant police work.


	4. Chapter 4

Captain Charles Devane loved his cat.

He lay on his couch with his cat lying near him, purring so loud it made him vibrate. The pounding on his door disturbed his peace and tranquility. He rolled off of his couch and stumbled toward the door, cursing under his breath at the unexpected and unwanted intrusion into his privacy.

"Who is it?" he demanded before looking out the peep hole. And there stood Dee Dee McCall. In a rage.

"It's McCall!" she yelled at the door. It opened and she walked right past him into his living room, not waiting for an invitation. She learned that trick early on from Hunter.

"What's going on here?" Devane asked, looking at his watch. "It's after midnight. What the hell is wrong?"

"Where's Hunter?!" she demanded.

Devane turned white.

"Where is he? I know he's alive. Where is he?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Devane said slowly . "He's gone, Dee Dee."

"Yeah, he's gone all right. But he's not dead. Don't stand there and lie to my face, Charlie! He was working undercover to nail Frank Caribardi. Now Caribardi is going to the grand jury and you need Hunter to testify. Where is he?"

Devane swallowed hard. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said again.

"Bullshit!" McCall cursed, and started pacing in front of him, running her hands through her dark hair. She turned and placed her hands on her hips. "I know he is alive," she began. "I can still feel him. I would know he was dead." Her angered voice then choked on a sob as tears flooded from her eyes. "That's why I can't let him go - my soul knows he is still alive."

Devane said not a word.

"Please," she whispered. "I need to know."

"Sit down," he said, gesturing to the couch. He sat in a chair near to the couch and bowed his head. He took a few deep breaths and started to confess.

"Hunter started working on Frank Caribardi about a year ago, right after you got married and went to London. He was able to use his family ties to get on the inside, gain Caribardi's confidence. He made Caribard believe that he was a cop gone bad. But we made a big mistake. That bust you assisted him with down at the pier? Hunter didn't know that Caribardi was associated with the dealer, so when a picture from the scene showed up, we realized that Caribardi found out about your relationship."

"This photo?" McCall asked, taking it from her pocket and shoving it toward him.

"Yeah, that's it. Caribardi was in the background. Next thing Hunter knows, he is being blackmailed by Caribardi. It was a test to show his allegiance to Caribardi." Devane took a deep breath. "He wanted Hunter to kill you."

McCall's heart dropped.

"And if Hunter didn't kill you, Carbardi would kill you both."

Of course. Hunter would protect her and put himself ahead of her. It was wrong in so many ways, but his love for her made her heart swell. But she would never forgive him for causing her and so many others so much grief and sadness.

"So . . . what happened?"

Devane shook his head and looked down at the floor. "I dunno. Things went downhill fast." He looked at McCall with tear-rimmed eyes. "I thought he was dead. He left me out of the loop, too. All I could find out was information from the guy Hunter was working with who was on our side, and I got a call from him that a body had been found and they thought it was Hunter because his wallet and other items were found with the body. He provided the positive ID with the medical examiner and it was a done deal."

"You never saw him?!" McCall exclaimed.

"They told me he was dead! Why wouldn't I believe one of our own guys?" Devane shook his head again. "It was about two months later – right around when you started working with Gary, that I was let in on the big surprise." Devane rolled his eyes in disgust. "They needed Hunter to go to the Grand Jury and they knew he would be dead or the cartel would have killed you before that happened. So they hid him in some cabin in the mountains." Devane heaved a sigh. "I know it's hard to understand, but let's face it – Hunter's so-called death had to be believable to everyone. To you, me, his family . . ."

"Sophie . . ." McCall whispered. She shook her head in disbelief. Part of her was overjoyed at knowing he was alive. But a part of her could not forgive him for putting so many people, including her, through so much unbearable pain.

"We're hoping the Grand Jury convenes before the end of the year," Charlie said softly. "I know that's a long time . . ."

"I need to see him."

"McCall, you can't."

"Charlie, I need to see him. If you don't tell me where he is, I'll find out anyway. Save yourself the aggravation."

"Goddamn it, Mccall! There's a reason why it's called the Witness Protection Program! You know that! You are putting him and yourself into danger."

McCall sighed. She knew this. But her eyes needed to see him, her fingers needed to touch him, and her jeart and body needed to breathe with him, to know he was still alive.

"Suit yourself, Charlie."


	5. Chapter 5

Sgt. Gary Calhoun sat on his porch swing, draining his second cold beer in as many hours. He was off duty for the next 48 hours and he was going to make the best of it if it killed him. The screen door creaked open, and he looked sideways at his wife of 15 years as she walked quietly onto the porch with him, her blue eyes squinting with annoyance. She stood in front of him, hands on her hips, right foot tapping, and breathed a heavy sigh, telling him without words that he was frustrating the shit out of her.

"I'm sorry," Gary told her. "I am just between a rock and a hard place."

"I would help if I could."

It was Gary's turn to sigh. He looked at Brenda and smiled, holding out his hand and pulling her onto the swing with him. He put his lips to her temple, giving her a gentle kiss, breathing her scent that was so familiar and comforting after all of these years. Her fingers wound through his dark hair, massaging his scalp. She knew how to make him relax.

"I need to ask you a hypothetical question," he murmured. She nodded her head to say she was listening as she continued her gentle massage.

"Let's say I was working on a case, and the consequences of that resulted in danger to you or the kids. I mean, big time danger."

She raised her eyebrows but said nothing.

"And let's say that I went undercover and decided to let everyone think I was killed – including you and the kids – as a way of protecting you. But I was really alive and living under an assumed name in the witness protection program."

"God, I hope that never happens," she said, her massage stopping abruptly.

Gary changed the scenario. "And let's say that you found out I was alive."

His wife sat back and stared at him. "If I found out you were alive after I had grieved your death, I would turn over heaven and earth to find you, kiss you and hug you, and then strangle you with my own two hands."

Gary grunted. He figured as much. "That's what I thought."

###

McCall thrust her Daytona into Park after pulling in front of Gary's suburban home. At first, she didn't feel like accepting his and Brenda's invitation to a last-minute barbecue. She liked Gary, and he was a good partner. And she liked his wife even more. After Hunter's death, which she now knew was a disappearing act, Brenda had become a good friend. And she loved their kids. Gary and Brenda were living the life she had always dreamed of – a nice little Cape Cod in suburban California with three precocious children and a big Golden Retriever named Sundance.

She was jealous.

But she was lonely – and hungry - so she accepted their invitation, and grabbed the box of gourmet cupcakes that she picked up at a bakery along the way as her contribution to the last-minute barbecue. Her mother had taught her at an early age to never arrive empty-handed.

8-year-old Madison greeted her on the sidewalk, followed by 4-year-old Morgan – both girls squealing with delight when they realized she was laden with cupcakes. They led her into the neat house where she greeted Gary and Brenda with a smile. 10-month-old Mason, who was balanced on Brenda's hip, immediately reached for her when McCall entered the kitchen area where Gary was arranging burgers for the grill.

McCall took Mason from Brenda's arms and smiled when the baby boy grinned at her. "You're getting heavy, Big Guy," McCall said to him, placing a kiss on his bald head that was now starting to grow new hair.

"You're not kidding," Brenda replied, rubbing her one arm that had been holding the chubby baby on her hip. "So glad you could come!"

"Thanks for inviting me," McCall replied softly, smiling at Gary who had turned around and grinned at her. His smile matched his son's. "Although I think you'd be sick of me after two full weeks on duty."

"Nah," Gary said as he went past her with the plate of burgers in his hand, headed toward the patio grill. "I'll just pretend I don't know you," he teased. And then he stopped and turned back around before he headed outside. "But uh, come on out here . . . . I need to talk to you anyway."

McCall cocked her head and looked at Brenda, who shrugged her shoulders, unable to give her a clue. "I'll take him," she told McCall, taking the boy from her arms and depositing him into a high chair. "I'll feed him first before we eat."

McCall followed Gary and stood nearby as he placed the burgers on the grill. Once he closed the lid, he turned and motioned for her to have a seat. She could tell this was going to be a serious conversation.

"Dee Dee," he began, his voice low. He bowed his dark head and clasped his hands together. "I need to tell you something, and I don't want you to respond. Just hear me, okay?" His blue eyes looked into hers, and she nodded in agreement.

"Rick and I . . . ." he began, before using both hands to massage his temples. He stopped and looked at her again, starting over. "Rick and I were working on the Frank Caribardi case together. Actually, we have been working on it." McCall's eyes widened and her mouth opened as if to say something, but she quickly closed it and nodded her head – she promised she would listen to him before saying anything.

"The Captain told me that you found out Hunter is squirreled away. You realize how dangerous it is for you now, right? I mean, Caribardi had you marked as a pawn. You were Hunter's price to pay to prove his loyalty to Caribardi."

McCall only nodded her head.

"Hunter - he loved you. He and I schemed a plan to fake his death, to protect you, and protect the case. We need Hunter to go to the Grand Jury. And as far as we can tell, EVERYONE believed that Hunter is dead. We needed you and everyone else to be convincing. Even the Captain."

She nodded her head again, and watched Gary bow his head. She could tell he wasn't done yet.

"I uh, I can't imagine being away from Brenda, and letting her think I was dead. And I can't imagine what it would do to her and my kids, going through what you have gone through." Gary took a deep breath and looked her square in the eyes. "God help me," he whispered. "And we never had this conversation, you hear me? But I can't risk you digging around to find him. I'm going to help you."

###

McCall looked at the gas gauge on the rented Ford Escort. It was dwindling further toward E.

"Dammit," she said, not realizing how remote the states of Oregon and Washington were. She had been driving for 24 hours on end, taking only a 7 hour break to rest and shower in a remote roadside motel, driving almost 1,200 miles, and was now driving in the wilderness of Puget Sound. She smirked at the sign ahead, showing her she was nearing Deception Pass State Park. "How appropriate," she said out loud.

The town of Anacortes was nearing, and she breathed a sigh of relief knowing that a gas station was within her almost-empty tank's reach. Just in time to drive to the ferry with a full tank of gas to board a short boat ride to Cypress Island. Where Hunter was hidden away like the Crown Jewels.

Gary told her to pack enough clothes for a week. In the middle of the night, she silently got into the blue rental car that had appeared in front of her house overnight, and followed the directions. "Fucking Washington? Who in the hell hides in Washington?" she remembered asking herself after she sat in the car for five minutes to read Gary's instructions. But it would be worth it. To see him, hold him, and know he was still alive.

"Don't talk to anyone, don't tell anyone where you are or where you're going," Gary whispered to her 72 hours ago on his back deck as the hamburgers sizzled nearby. "I'll handle the Captain." The plan was for her to leave her car where it was always parked, and to leave the lights on in her house like she always did when it was dark. She packed a bag with necessary items and exited her home via the back door to the rented car parked a block away.

Her heart started to hammer in her chest as she guided the Escort off the ferry, carefully following the directions Gary had given to her. A soft, drizzling rain had begun to fall. She checked her watch, realizing that she was two hours behind what she had hoped. It was hard to see in the misty rain that had fallen, especially now that it was almost dusk, so she drove slowly, looking for the markers that Gary had painstakingly described.

Fifteen minutes after exiting the ferry, McCall saw the post on the right hand side of the remote road. It was a single white post, with three red reflectors in a row at the top, and an out-of-place yellow one below. This was it. She turned onto the overgrown grassy, dirt roadway, the branches of overgrown trees and shrubs scratching the paint as she drove. Her heart was now thundering in her throat, and after a short drive, her headlights shone on a small, wooden A-frame house in the distance. Smoke rose gently from a chimney, and a soft glow of light came from the windows. McCall practically choked on her own anxiety. It had been nine months since she had seen him, cried over him, and grieved for him.

"Hunter won't know you are coming, and he is on guard constantly. Don't be surprised if he greets you first with his .38," Gary said.

She parked the car and made her way quietly to the front of the structure. She climbed three steps, and walked three more steps to the front door. And just as she turned the knob to open the screen door, the main door creaked open. Hunter stood in front of her, his eyes brimming with tears. "It's really you," he choked out in whisper, holding his arms out to her in a welcoming embrace. She leaped into his arms, clutching him with all of her strength and tears of joy ran in rivers down her cheeks. She was never going to let him go again. "Oh my God, it's really you."


End file.
